


In The Dark

by sheiruki



Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Before Battle, Character Study, Disfavoured, Disfavoured aligned fatebinder, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon, Spoilers, Unusual Requests, i guess, i have no idea how to tag this properly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiruki/pseuds/sheiruki
Summary: (Description contains spoilers for the end of Tyranny)One night before the final battle against Kyros, Tunon goes for a nighttime walk.
Relationships: Tunon the adjudicator & Fatebinder
Kudos: 8





	In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Another story about Tunon thinking about stuff because for some reason I really like writing Tunon thinking about stuff.  
> This is set far past the events of the game and technically not 100% canon-compliant since I forgot that I acquired the edict of nightfall during a different playthrough. Oh well...

Nighttime had, ironically, always been Tunon's favourite time of day. Alone in the dark, the adjudicator could focus on all those thoughts usually superseded by the daily business of the court. And yet, this particular night, Tunon did not have it in him to lie down and meditate, to bring order to his thoughts so that he could begin the new day as focused as he ever was. Little wonder, considering the army of his new sovereign was but a day away from the capital of the Northern Empire. So, unwilling to stare at the flaxen walls of his tent any longer, Tunon floated out into the night.

The Disfavoured camp was as silent as the darkness that surrounded it. A few stray soldiers crowded around a campfire. More stood guard at the exits and entryways of the hastily erected palisades. Still, most were sleeping in their tents. 

It was a fact that regularly eluded Tunon; mortals needing sleep. Young archons too, as the little songbird and the fatebinder-turned-archon had proven. Graven Ashe was probably awake, but Tunon had little interest in the Archon of War. What was he to the Archon of Justice if not another brash youth?

It was ironic; the few archons who came close to him in age had fallen to one such youth, the fledgeling he now called his sovereign and who would, fate willing, dethrone Kyros and bring about the world Tunon had dreamed of for so long: a world united under one rule, one system of law.

He approached one of the gates guarded by a boy on the verge of adulthood, dressed in the proud purple of the Disfavoured. He greeted the Tunon with a salute.

"Adjudicator?" The boy's voice betrayed his calm posture. "Where are you going?" 

It was none of the boy's business, and normally Tunon would reprimand such needless curiosity, but in this case, it was likely just a question demanded by protocol. He looked down at the guard, who shrunk under the adjudicator's heavy gaze. Tunon knew how much his appearance unnerved those around him, yet the thought of unmasking himself was wholly unbearable; too long had he worn the iron face that had become more natural to him than his own skin.

"I wish to go for a walk," Tunon stated plainly.

The guard nodded and quickly stepped aside. 

Even if there were any objections, he doubted the boy would dare to voice them and so, Tunon floated out into wide open and onward over the plains, letting his thoughts roam alongside him. Eventually, he spotted a large, single boulder lying on the grass. 

Perhaps it was the little humanity left in him, that little bit of irrationality even he never quite managed to cull, that made Tunon decide to climb it. From up there, he could see the capital of the Northern Empire rising over the horizon, smothered by the merciless darkness of his master's edict. A milky white stream snaked across the terrain and towards it until the shadows rendered it black and it disappeared. If not for the upcoming battle, it could have been a serene bit of scenery.

Admittedly, it caused Tunon's mind to wander to a distant time and place, where a young judge was making himself a name in the world of law and order. Later, that same judge would catch the eye of Kyros Herself, and become Tunon the Adjudicator, Archon of Justice.

Had he made the right choice? To turn his back on Her and all She had given? Her law? The very law he helped create? The law he had been enforcing for centuries? 

Tunon shook his head.

Justice was more than law; more than words on parchment; more than the wishes and whims of a solitary despot. The trial had proven Her wrong, unmasked Her justice as little more than a charade to secure Her own power. All those years, Tunon had forsaken his real mistress in favour of a viper, a cunning snake whose poison had, for centuries, dissolved all the moral convictions he once held to be self-evident.

"Your Honour?" A voice called from behind.

Tunon whirled around. He knew to whom that voice belonged; someone who should most definitely be safe inside the camp, asleep.

"Master, you should not be up at this hour, nor should you be outside." He gazed at the young archon at his feet. The boy was older than the guard had been, yet he retained the same youthfulness - and, evidently, the recklessness that came along with it. 

Alendron, as was the archon's name, answered with a shrug, leaned his cane against the boulder, and attempted the climb. 

It really was one of those curious human urges, was it not?

"Let me aid you, please."

Tunon floated down and helped his master reach the top.

No sooner had he climbed over the edge did Alendron make himself comfortable on the cold stone. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. 

"The thought of the battle ahead robbed me of my sleep," he explained. "So I roamed the camp and when one of the guards asked me if I _also_ wanted to go for a walk, I inquired further. I hope my presence is not bothersome to you."

How could he possibly assume such a thing? Alendron was his sovereign, his master. If anything, it was an honour to be sought out for counsel.

"No, not at all," Tunon stated calmly and sat down next to Alendron. He abhorred sullying his robe with the dirt gathered in the rock's crevices but if it helped put his master's mind at ease, nothing was beneath him.

Alendron sighed. 

"The few battles I've been in were always clear cut. Even when you sent me to Vendrien's Well, I was convinced I would succeed; I had two of Kyros' most devastating armies backing me. Divided as the Disfavoured and the Scarlet Corus may have been, there was never a question as to whether we could crush the oathbreakers - only whether we would accomplish that before the edict killed us all. Now, for the first time, I'm uncertain."

Tunon glanced back at the Disfavoured camp and the splintered independent camps behind it. Pox and her Plaguebearers had cost them dearly. 

"Our numbers have decreased drastically since we departed from the Tiers."

Alendron furrowed his brows.

"The capital has been under siege-like conditions for over a year thanks to your edict. What forces She has left are likely holding out there."

"So you're saying that, although she is weakened, the battle will be tough nevertheless," Alendron mused. 

Indeed. Kyros might have lost most of Her forces, but She was no fool. She was waiting for them to walk straight into the vipers' nest.

"Your Honour, you know Kyros better than anyone else. If she were in my position, what would she do?" 

Tunon mustered his new sovereign but found Alendron's expression as unreadable as his own mask. 

There was something unnerving about the question. Tunon had torn his leash because Kyros' justice had turned out to be a sham, smoke and mirrors hiding a power-hungry tyrant. Why would Alendron want to be like Her? Would he tread on Justice too if it meant solidifying his power? 

Although it was not his place to distrust his master's intentions when all Alendron had done was ask an innocuous question to better understand their adversary, a splinter of doubt nestled itself in Tunon's mind. After all, he had once thought Kyros to be well-meaning too.

"When She conquered the city, She set most of it ablaze, driving out enemies and civilians alike in order to prevent a drawn-out street battle. Next, she sent in her archons to engage Graven Ashe and the Disfavoured; meanwhile, the rabble fell victim to the chorus. When the Disfavoured surrendered at last, so did the Northern Empire. At any rate, she would strike without care for casualties and mercy; one concentrated attack to crush the enemy once and for all."

Back then, Tunon recalled, he had been fool enough to believe her lie about it being the more humane action in the long run. It had never been about humaneness.

Alendron nodded and frowned. Finally, he laid back, staring up at the sky.

"Your Honour? Tunon?"

The use of his name caught him off-guard; his master hardly ever addressed him personally.

"Master? What is it you need?"

"You are sworn to keep your oaths and promises, aren't you?"

Alendron was not wrong; his very being recoiled at the thought of breaking a promise. Even so, what promise warranted such assurance? What could his master ask of him that was not already part of the laws and regulations he had already established?

Before Tunon could answer, Alendron continued.

"If I ever become like Kyros, if I ever forsake my principles, if I ever go down the path she smoothed," the young archon's tone was calm but his eyes begged for Tunon to agree. "Then kill me." 

Tunon could not believe what he was hearing. Indignant, he turned to his sovereign.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please kill me if I become like Kyros," Alendron repeated and reached out, scanning the stone with his fingertips until he found Tunon's hand. "Promise?" 

Tunon hesitated. It was such a grave request, yet at the same time, Tunon was relieved. His new master would never be like Her, like Kyros. Never. 

He took Alendron's hand in his own.

"I promise."


End file.
